


419 Cedar St, Alexandria, VA

by museme87



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rickyl Writers' Group
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museme87/pseuds/museme87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles, ficlets, and shorter one-shots focusing on Rickyl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	419 Cedar St, Alexandria, VA

**Author's Note:**

> [One-shot] Rick accidentally wakes Daryl during a project, and Daryl doesn't have anything better to do than help.
> 
> This is pre-Rickyl, but the two of them are on the cusp of something. Also, you can assume that the events of 6x10 never happened or that that pairing is over. This is set at a random point in the future in Alexandria.

He'd woken to the sound of something falling and was already grabbing his bow before he heard Rick's soft curse. It took Daryl a moment to register that there was no urgency to Rick's voice. Exhaling deeply, he now tries to steady his pounding heart. Nothing's wrong. Just a false alarm. But damn if his body isn't wired now and itching to _move_. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Daryl snatches up the sleeveless flannel he'd thrown on the floor last night after his late return home from a three day run. It'd been a sleepless few days, and last night he'd immediately headed to his room and practically passed out on his bed. This morning he still stinks of sweat and grime from all that time outside Alexandria's walls. It'll only be a matter of hours before Carol catches him and forces him to shower. 

Stepping out into the hall, Daryl tries listens for her telltale sounds, but is distracted by the smell of paint. He shrugs on the flannel as he steps around the corner and finds Rick standing in the small room that they'd recently moved Judy into. 

"Everythin' alright?" Daryl asks, his voice still husky from sleep. 

"Shit, I didn' mean to wake you. Chair fell over." 

Rick gestures to the now upright chair, but Daryl is far more interested in the can of soft yellow paint on the floor and the brush in Rick's hand. No one had mentioned anything about painting her room to him, not that he could blame them. They all knew how he felt about Alexandria even after he'd mellowed out a bit. It's one thing to have a roof over your head every night. But to go painting and settling in like you're going to be here forever? Well, it's no wonder why they didn't tell him. 

He feels that spark of annoyance seizing hold of him, but Rick's grin catches him off guard. There's a streak of yellow across Rick's forehead and speckles on his forearms. Daryl thinks about how nice it'd be to pull Rick into the shower with him, scrubbing each other down and slipping fingers across wet skin. He swallows hard as Rick gives him a curious look that does nothing to ease the knots in his stomach. Looking away, Daryl brings his thumb to his teeth and worries the skin there while Rick just chuckles and goes back to his painting. 

He's getting much better at recovering from these moments. The close quarters of the house drove him half crazy when they got here, having Rick so close that sometimes they were practically bumping into each other. His blood would sing in those moments, much like it did when he was tracking in the cool wilderness. But not being able to _act_ on it? Well, that made him more resentful of these four walls than ever before. And seeing Rick all domestic-like? It drove him half mad. 

But it's easier now that they've fallen into some semblance of a routine. It only takes him a second to straighten himself out and join Rick at the wall, inspecting his handiwork. 

"Your trim work 's 'bout as good as your trackin', Picasso." 

Rick shakes his head, smiling. "No one asked the peanut gallery." 

Daryl finds himself grinning, watching Rick intently as he paints a streak near the window and ends up getting paint on the woodwork around it.

"Gimme that," Daryl says, nudging Rick out of the way and taking the paintbrush. 

"You're a distraction." 

He could say the same about Rick, but he lets it pass. Instead he focuses on painting around the window proper, making a point to step slightly aside to show Rick just how it's done. Rick mumbles something under his breath that Daryl can't quite make out, but it lacks any heat. Seemingly resigned, Rick picks up the larger brush and works on the wall on the other side of the window. 

Daryl's happy to work in the quiet, letting his mind concentrate on the task before him and pushing out any thoughts of supplies or Walkers. And it lasts a little while until Rick starts humming some damn song that he knows Daryl hates. Daryl throws him a look, and Rick laughs. He's half tempted to throw the paintbrush at Rick's head, but thinks better of it.

"You know, if someone would've told me down in Atlanta that I'd be paintin' a nursery with Daryl Dixon someday, I'd 've punched him in the face." 

It hadn't occurred to Daryl that _that's_ what they were doing here. It's not like it was _their_ nursery to be painting, no more than Rick and Carol's or Rick and Michonne's. Hell, they all looked after Judy. She belonged to all of them in some way. There wasn't anything special about the two of them doing this together. Judy wasn't _theirs_ , just _Rick's_. Not that that would stop Daryl from fighting to the death to keep her safe.

"Wouldn't 've had to. I'd 've beat you to it."

"Don't mind this so much now," Rick says, his smile easy. 

If he had a mind to, Daryl thinks he might take that the wrong way, the way that Rick cannot possibly mean. Or maybe there is something to it. Sometimes Rick holds their looks just a little too long or touches him more gently than is strictly necessary between two friends. Two _brothers_. Rick's word, not his. But even if it's more than brotherly, Daryl's not sure he can do it. He doesn't know what that would look like—being more than Rick's right hand man. His pulse races excitedly at the thought, but he's so damn afraid of what he might gain just to someday lose.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never actually written Rickyl before, but I'm a pretty big fan. :) Thanks for reading!


End file.
